The Phantomette of the Opera
by Ella O'hara
Summary: this is the story, only with gender changes. Christine is now Chris,Raoul is now Riley, and Erik is now ERika. Hahahahahah. it will be interesting.
1. A Tantrum and a Triumph

When he first came to the opera house, Chris thought the place to be gorgeous, mysterious, and just a tad frightening. The other dancers treated him kindly, the stagehands were indifferent, and the stars didn't even seem to notice him. That was fine by him. Attention was never something that her craved like the air he breathed.

_The place was even more mysterious than he would have guessed. Although he was a mere child of seven when he came here, the feeling had never gone away. There was always the feeling that somebody was watching him. When he was young, he had waved away the sensations, dismissing them as demons that lurked about. But now that he was nineteen, the feeling remained. The presence even spoke to him at times. It was like having a friend constantly watching over you, so he never told anybody. His guardian angel was what kept him going through the day. She would always be there, waiting patiently to sing him into the stupor of sleep. _

" I will not tolerate this kind of mistreatment!" A shrill voice rang out through the theater. Everybody rolled his or her eyes, including Chris. The leading man was a spoiled, difficult fellow who never hesitated to make a scene. Now, during rehearsal, he was yelling at he costume makers for making his helmet too tight. " Please, sir Bouvire, we apologize for the mistake." a stout woman tried to coax Sir Bouvire out of his tantrum state. The man just then threw his hat to the ground and stormed dramatically from the stage. A multitude of brownnosers and desperados immediately scrambled after him. The chorus boys and girls started to chatter about the awful man. A blond ballerina stated, "His great fat head probably swelled from all the attention he was soaking up." Everybody giggled. Chris smiled shyly. He didn't like to draw attention to himself when he was wearing a skin-tight leotard.

With the crowd of Bouvire's advocates gone, everybody could see who was standing at the back of the theater. A woman and two men were talking quietly, not glancing at the stage. The two men were the managers, Andre and Firmin. Andre was a short, white-haired creature that carried around a cane, used to rap idle stagehands. Firmin towered over Andre, possessing a curly moustache and an air of unbearable pompousness. Both of them made a dynamic duo, one that was not very well liked. The woman had not been around the opera house before. Everybody eyed the girl curiously, especially the boys. She had great green eyes, so large that hey almost dominated her entire face. Her light golden hair was tied back into a neat bun and the frock she wore was neither extravagant nor shabby. Chris squinted at the young woman. She seemed so familiar. " Oh, my God." That was Riley. She had been his best friend as a child, like a sister to him. You could even go as far as to call them sweethearts. The triumvirate then left the theater, the dancers left to whisper. " Who is that girl?" was the question that flew around the theater most. Chris lowered his gaze even farther. She would not remember him.

Their instructor, Madame Giry came back onto the stage, waving her stick in the air. Her young daughter Meg followed close behind. He waved at Meg. She waved back. They were friends, so she was one of the few who he was not deathly shy around.

With that action coincided a strange occurrence. A cloud that was used for the performances fell to the stage with an earsplitting crash. It crushed Bouvire's hat, which sat helpless in its path. The chorus girls screamed while the boys gasped. A dark figure bolted from the catwalks, back into the shadows. As the cloud of sawdust cleared, they noticed that a red rose had been left. Chris scurried forth to retrieve it. That was odd. His mysterious singing tutor usually gave him one of these if he did well. Quite a strange pastime for angels, wreaking havoc on a rehearsal.

The conductor then sprinted back onto the stage, upsetting Madame Giry's bench. "Do any of you have chocolates somewhere? Sir Bouvire," he spat the name, "calls for chocolates. or else he will not perform." Madame Giry snorted as she stood up, brushing dust off her dress. " I think," She hissed, " Zat it is time to find a new star. Why don't you try Chris Daae over there?" Chris flinched at the sound of his own name. "M-me?" he stuttered looking to his fellow dancers for help. Meg just shrugged t him.

" Yes, he has been taking lessons from a great teacher." The conductor looked surprised. " But he is nothing more than a simple chorus boy!" Madame Giry shrugged in a "So what?" manner. The conductor sighed, waving his hand in defeat. " Alright, then, from the top." The dancers stepped back a few paces, leaving Chris out in the open. Gulping loudly, he stepped to the front of the stage. Taking a deep shuddering breath, he sang:

My summer's love My summer's sweetheart true My own angel from the west 

_She stole my heart_

_And with it ran away_

_And left me with no lover's rest_

A stunned silence roared through the theater. All anybody could hear was the shouting of Sir Bouvire in the distance. Meg smiled, motioning Chris to go on. He smiled back, suddenly feeling a lot stronger.

And she was gone 

_Like a snow flake in the breeze_

_Never to return_

_I try to forget_

_To put it in the past_

_From my mistakes I try to learn_

_Although she was a mere summer's love_

_A girl of dream_

_She still stokes my heart to burn!_

Everybody cheered. Madame Giry nodded her approval. The conductor stood dumbstruck. He had no idea that this kind of talent could lay within a mere chorus boy. "Bravo!" He shouted, "we have found our new star!" Meg smiled at Chris again. He felt as if shyness were nothing but a mere hindrance now. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he heard a female voice croon, "_Brava, Brava, Bravissima" _He closed his eyes. His angel of music had helped him triumph.


	2. That Voice

Here is the second chapter. It will be even more twisted and wrong. JK! Well, here you go. Enjoy! And I apologize for the cruddy lyrics.

Ch. 2- that voice….

Chris felt his heart leap into his throat as he stepped out onto the stage in his devil costume. The material was sticking to his skin, making him even more nervous. He was probably the sorriest looking devil that anyone in the audience had ever seen. The horned helmet slid down over his face. He pulled it back up. He could see Meg gazing anxiously at him fro behind the material of her red veil. With the false flames dancing behind him, he bean to sing. A/n I am a horrible poet, so just imagine some words!

With the final high note, all of the Parisians in the audience gave him a standing ovation. Roses were tossed onstage, but he threw those to the chorus girls. It was bad enough that he was wearing a red spandex costume. Roses would probably just complete the illusion of gender identity crisis.

Meanwhile, up in one of the boxes, Riley stared at the devil onstage. Could it really be Chris? Suddenly, the man sitting next to her her nameless date seemed obsolete. Chris was here! Oh, how she had missed him! She quickly removed her elbow length gloves, clapping loudly. " Encore!" She shouted. The man onstage looked up at her. He seemed to not believe what he was seeing. She gazed for a while, and he gazed back. They both stared until Chris was forced off the stage by a couple of unruly stagehands. Riley rushed out of the box immediately, leaving her date scratching his head in confusion. With the biggest smile on her face, she pushed her way through the crowd, set on finding her old friend.

After Chris was pulled from the stage, all the chorus girls came up and congratulated him. A few upfront ones actually kissed him on the cheek. When he had finally pushed his way out of the bunch, his neck and ears were bright red from embarrassment. Meg shooed the others away, giving Chris a friendly hug. " You were perfect!" she praised, "Bouvire couldn't hold a candle to you!" Chris smiled appreciatively. He knew that Bouvire wouldn't hold candles either way. There were always tables or sleeping drunks to do that for him.

Meg produced a red rose tied with a black ribbon from her bodice. She peered around the hallway cautiously. " She is pleased with you." Chris took the rose, examining it. Meg squeezed his hand, and then left him to his thoughts.

He placed the rose next to his wardrobe. His heart fluttered as he gazed at it. His angel was pleased. And she was usually such a strict teacher. The door suddenly creaked open, and Chris whirled around. Riley stood there, fiddling with er gloves. " Hello." She said shyly. Chris stood silent for a moment then rushed forward to hug her. Although surprised, Riley was pleased and returned the embrace. " It's been so long, I thought you wouldn't remember me." Chris quickly tried to straighten his attire. He felt very shabby next to Riley's beautiful eveningwear. "How could I forget? How could I forget those years we spent together as children, listening to each other's poetry, describing our every dream," Chris melted at those fond memories " And those nights we spent watching each sunset and star." He finished for her. " You were great tonight," Riley murmured, "but now, we shall go to supper!"

Chris quickly shook his head. " No, I can't my, er, instructor is very strict. 'I'm afraid I must stay here." Riley looked surprised, but shrugged it off. " Alright," She said, " I suppose I shall see you tomorrow then." She gently closed the door. Chris sat in silence for a dew minutes. He was ecstatic about seeing Riley. She was his best friend, next to Meg. The candles soon extinguished themselves in exhaustion. As the darkness came, a new aura to the room came as well. Out of the darkness, a voice sang:

_Who is this girl?_

_Who all but flaunts_

Who is after one thing and one thing alone 

_Disgraceful wench_

_And after all I've done_

_Won't somebody throw me a bone?_

The voice rang in his ears. He suddenly felt terrible for acting so coquettishly with Riley. In return, he sang:

Angel, my angel 

_Please forgive me_

_She is a comrade and nothing more_

_Unlike you, _

_She is not benefactive_

_She is a friend, you can be sure. _

The voice seemed to be mollified by these statements, softening her tone.

Cajoling child, you will see me 

_You angel in front of your eyes_

_Try to look past my mask _

_An object composed of lies!_

Suddenly, a gloved hand lay on his shoulder. He whirled around, looking a woman in the eyes. She gazed back, taking him by the hand. The mysterious girl pressed her hand into a spot on the wall, revealing a passageway. As if by hypnosis, Chris submitted, following the figure, his will entirely her plaything. A white porcelain mask concealed half of her face, but apart from that, she was stunning. Her jet-black hair merged with the jet black of her clothing, almost making her a living shadow. Dark eyes, almost black, gazed at him from behind the mask. _Chris_… she called softly. Although her hand only clasped his gently, he could feel tremendous power in her form, almost unbelievable for a woman of her thin stature.

She wagged a finger at his face, silently calling for him to follow her. With all thoughts of anything else gone, he followed her into the mysterious labyrinths below.


	3. Chris?

Thank you for the reviews. I assure you, there will be catfights between Riley and Erika. Hahahahahahahahahah. sic! Ok, here goes:

Ch 3: "Chris?"

Meg awoke with a start, a nightmare shaking her from her dreamy state. She quickly picked up her candle, igniting it, careful not to wake the other girls. They were packed into the dormitories like sardines, so any loud movement could set off a volley of complaining and thumps on the head. She decided to visit Chris, who usually slept near the catwalks.

Striding silently down the dark corridors, she felt her heart rate quicken. She knew someone, or something, stalked these hallways at night. Running into that person was not something she wished to experience, lest she die of fright.

As she made her way to the catwalks, a great snore startled her. Joseph Buquet was slumped against the wall, his surrounding littered with rum bottles. Meg rolled her eyes, giving Buquet a kick for good measure. The man was a creep, as far as she was concerned.

Surprisingly, she found Chris's cot empty, the cotton blanket cast to the floor. Alarmed, she scampered to his dressing room. To increase her astonishment, the door was locked. Meg rapped on the door gently. " Chris?" She whispered into the keyhole. From her nightdress she produced a ring of keys. Selecting the correct one, the door creaked open. The room was empty. A strange detail caught her eye. One of the paintings lay… ajar. Raising her thin eyebrows, she pushed the painting open. An elegantly lit passageway lay before her. Holding her candle with a quaking hand, she began the walk down the mysterious hall.

The candles that lit the passage were nearly snuffed, but the stones shone with an eerie golden brilliance. Coming to a case of stairs, she looked down over the rail. There seemed to be no end to the descent. At the foot of the stairs, there was a lake. How odd. Even odder, the lake seemed to be _singing_, a ghostly melody drifting over the water. Meg's candle then flickered out, throwing her into darkness. A bluish light appeared over the dark water. Meg, for one, was dumbstruck. What the hell was all this?

Suddenly, a noise like water lapping against the side of a boat caught her attention. Along with that noise, a woman's sang through the darkness. It was in a language she could not understand, but it chilled her right to her mended garters. Without another moment, Meg fled, dropping her candleholder, not to stop until she was in the safety of her bed.

_He looks so peaceful, _Erika thought as she punted the boat through the dark water. Chris had finally come to her domain, only to touch sharp object that was riddled with, what else, sleeping potion. Alas, he had keeled over like a rag doll within minutes. The only upside to this was that now she was sure that her sleeping serum worked.

Erika was no ordinary girl. Unlike an ordinary girl of the time, she was incredibly strong. She landed the boat, scooping up Chris into her arms. The sight might have been fairly comical to those who were not terrified of her black clothing or white death's head. Chris was bigger than her. As she made her way up the stairs, Chris snored loudly. Erika smiled. He was so much more than a student to her. She was his angel, his heavenly protector. He had been her best friend since she had first seen him as a shy seven year old. She had only been eight at the time, but she had known he was special. Now twenty, she was very much in love with this shy chorus boy. She had been there for his entire life, comforting and friendly. She had watched him become a handsome young man from a distance. _I have been watching him more than he will ever need to know,_ she mused with a smirk on her face. She would take her observations to the grave.

Setting him down on his cot, she brushed a lock of ebony hair from her mask. Gently, she ran one of her leather-gloved fingers over his chin. She loved this boy for what he was, human. _This Riley, _she thought as se receded back into the shadows, _will have to be dealt with by any means necessary. _


	4. Dinner and Danger

You guys are so sweet! I'm happy you like my story. The weirdness continues with chapter four. Voila!

Ch. 4 Dinner and Danger

When Chris entered the practice studio the next morning, all the girls went silent. Meg scurried to his side, pulling him to the side. " Chris!" she cried in a low voice, " They found out. It wasn't my fault! They heard Her. I promise, I wasn't me!" She seemed to barely contain her hysteria. Chris comforted her. " What are you talking about?" Although he wore a blank expression, his eyes spelled fear. They had heard Her. This was definitely not good.

Meg gasped her explanation, explaining her insomnia and finding the passage. Chris did his best to maintain his poker face. " Meg, I'm sure you were just dreaming." Was his explanation. " I told you about the angel, didn't I?" Meg straightened, fear now rampant in her eyes. She rapidly shook her head. " She is a guardian angel, sent from heaven to protect me after my parents abandoned me. It was she that taught me to sing!" Chris adopted a dreamy expression, his gaze drifting from Meg to the rafters.

Meg took his hand tightly in hers. " Are you feeling alright?" She tried hard to look him square in the eye, as to determine what the hell his problem was. Madame Giry then came over, banging her cane against the wall directly next to Chris's head. " Enough prattle!" She muttered. She pointed to the dance floor wither cane. The two friends leaped onto the floor like deer, but not after each receiving a whack on the bottom from Madame Giry.

After practice, Meg stayed behind to speak with her mother. Chris went ahead, joking loudly with his fellow male dancers. Halfway back to the dormitories, Riley stepped in front of the group. She looked even more stunning than the night of the Gala. She had pulled back her golden hair into a loose bun, her shoulders set off by a low-cut sapphire hued dress. Chris's friends were a bit shocked at her presence, all of them silent with embarrassment. Chris suddenly felt a lot more self-conscious in his practice uniform.

" Hello, Chris!" She said brightly, smiling her million-watt smile. Chris smiled back. "Hello, Riley." Both held their gaze until Rile motioned for the exit. "D-did you want to go to supper?" Her cheeks now held a pinkish tinge. Chris nodded, but with one glance at his attire, she added:

"You will want to change first though, no?" Chris nodded dumbly, hurrying off to get off those god-forsaken tights.

Erika sat restlessly at her organ, scribbling away at a scrap of paper. She frequently had stupendous ideas for her music that came at odd times. This burst of musical genius had come while dressing to haunt.

She gazed in the mirror, stroking her scarred complexion. The girl shied away from her reflection. An evil laugh rang in her mind. Sadly, she recognized this cackle as her mother's. Without another moment, she jammed on her mask, fixed her hair back into an attractive bun, and fitted her cape around her neck. On her way to the door, she picked up a sword and stowed the hilt in the belt of her breeches. She knew that Parisian women of the time frame did not usually carry swords, but she also knew that they didn't wear breeches, frightening masks, or men's evening wear. It was her philosophy that in order to be outrageous, you must disregard the mindless, sexist rules of society. Erika was, in a sense, an early feminist.

Plucking a red rose from a vase nearby, she tucked the flower into her breast pocket. The mirror was now a bit kinder, displaying a lovely girl with beautiful black eyes and shining black hair. The mask was simply an extra, a concealer if you please.

With a swish of her cape and a low, dark chuckle, she was off to find Chris.

Although Chris was an old, treasured friend, Riley was still a bit edgy. They were currently sitting in the café opposite the opera house, enjoying a hot, delicious meal. Chris nervously straightened his collar, disregarding the frigid temperatures. The conversation was swift and enjoyable, both individuals possessing an impressive array of knowledge. A stout chef pranced to their table, carrying a large pot of some steaming juxtaposing concoction. When the man had pranced back to the kitchen, Riley and Chris stared at what had been brought. It stared back. Then they both laughed thunderously at the jest. The chef looked confused. Locking eyes, they stopped laughing. Silently, they choked down the horrible mix, tears welling in their eyes, partly from disgust, partly from humor.

Erika lounged lazily behind her painting, fingering a coin vigorously. She had been waiting for over two hours for Chris. He was usually always punctual, most of the time coming early for his lesson. But now, he was absent. Behind her cool, bored exterior, Erika stewed with worry.

Perhaps Chris had been hurt? Ill? Perhaps he was in some sort of trouble? Erika ran her tan fingers through her hair. She threw the coin away, her brow furrowing. He was with that Riley fool. Abruptly, she stood up, preparing to return to her lair, when the door opened. She rushed back to her post, pressing her ear against the back surface of the painting. She heard Chris laugh, and then drop his cloak. " I'll see you later. I had a splendid time." Erika's spine froze, her dark eyes narrowing behind her mask. " Goodbye. I will see you in the morning." A soft female voice cut through her happiness. She heard the door shut quietly. A watching hole was then utilized. Chris lay on the bench, a large, obtuse grin on his face. Erika fell a hot surge of anger pierce her thoughts. Controlling the rage in her voice, she sang as softly and sweetly as possible:

Boy of my mind 

_My friend and pupil,_

_Why do you forsake me?_

_Chris, my dear_

_Told a falsehood have you_

_Why do you fail to see?_

At this, Chris stood up, his gaze darting all around the room. Erika smiled peevishly at his bewildered expression. He gulped loudly, answering:

Angel of mine 

_My friend, my phantom_

_Find the strength, the love, the mind to forgive_

_My mind was weak_

_Bent like a rotten weed_

_Thoughts shot like an egg put through a sieve_

_This girl, this person_

_Still means nothing_

_Merely A treasured family friend_

_I will admit_

_She is a good companion_

_But our secrets together should not end_

Erika softened at this. Ha. Even the feared Phantom of the Opera could not hold a grudge against those doleful blue eyes of his. Singing sweetly in Swedish ha! tongue twister, she once again possessed his will, luring him back underground with the girl who adored him. Passing a mirror with the mesmerized Chris behind her, she smirked. Riley couldn't hold a candle to an attractive specter such as myself, she thought with a pleasing note of conceit. Before sealing the passage, she tossed the red rose over her shoulder carelessly, placed for any foolish girl who would come looking for his after hours.


	5. Erika No likie

Hmm. No reviews. I sense a disturbance in the force. Oh well. Here's another chapter. I promise a fight!

Ch. 5 Erika no likie

Chris's eyes popped open, sliding back into focus. He sat up slowly, rubbing his head confusedly. He seemed to be in an ornately decorated dungeon. The walls were hung with tapestries riddled with mildew, and a large organ consumed one entire wall. A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, illuminating the room with an eerie orange glow. To his surprise, a slender young woman sat at the organ, her hands cradling her forehead. She was garbed entirely in black, a white mask hiding half of her face. She was playing a beautiful, mournful melody, like a cross between a requiem hymn and a lively reel. Chris closed his eyes, allowing the music to take him elsewhere.

He was not afraid. Others had warned him of the dangerous phantom of the opera, but the mysterious girl looked quite mellow, almost docile at the instrument. Chris stole up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. The girl whirled around, her eyes blazing. He actually stepped back a pace. The fire immediately turned to solace, her gaze now gentle. " Chris," she said softly. Her voice was beautiful, even when she was whispering. He melted. Erika sauntered over to a large cabinet, her eyes never leaving the young man. She busied herself with a bottle of red wine. Discreetly, she pulled a small vial out of her robes and poured it into Chris's glass. He would wake up safely in his cot.

While she poured the drink, Chris snuck up behind her. He wondered what was under that mask. And if she was hiding something, it couldn't be that bad, could it? Besides, he felt something for this mystery girl that he had never felt before. He ran his hands down her neck, kissing her cheek lightly. Then he quickly pulled off her mask.

Erika stood frozen for a moment, and then drew herself to her full height. She pushed Chris to the floor, snatching her mask from his petrified hand. "Damn you!" she snarled in his face, brandishing the mask. "Is this what you wanted to see?" Erika pointed at her deformed cheek. Chris felt tears well up in his eyes. Not only was he so very sorry that he had done this, but she had hurt him. Surprisingly, the thin girl was very strong.

Calming down, she placed her mask back on her face, helping Chris to his feet. "I apologize," She murmured, clearly embarrassed, " I can be _very _touchy about my mask. She handed him his glass. " Thank you." Chris tried to keep his eyes down. What he had seen was very disturbing. He now thought it impossible to think of this girl as an angel, for she possessed the face of Satan. Quickly, he drank the wine, smacking his lips when through. Erika counted to herself: _three, two, one…_thud. Chris was unconscious on her Persian rug, snoring softly. Once again, Erika picked him up and placed him in the boat. She looked upon him as he slept, cursing him for doing his dastardly deed. _The poor fool never saw that coming, _she mused as her boat disappeared into the blackness.

After putting Chris back onto his bed, she knelt down and kissed him gently on the lips. His eye twitched in response. Chuckling softly, she receded back into the shadows, the silk of her cape whispering against the floor. When she had stalked sown the stairs, a thud startled her. A large man had snuck up behind her, setting his brandy bottle down. Her eyes narrowed. She recognized him as Joseph Buquet, prop manager and disagreeable lout. " Hello there, love," He drawled, his intoxicated breath putrid. She drew her sword, ready to defend herself. " What's this then, a little bird with a dagger?" He snatched the sword, tossing it over the side. He grabbed her, holding her hands behind her back. His pig-like stare landed on her mask. " Ah, you must be that phantom wench!" She fought free of his grip, her hands out, ready for combat. " Well," He snickered, " You haven't gotten our initiation yet. Let me do you a service." The scoundrel advanced, his intentions clearly dishonorable. A length of rope caught Erika's eye. With blinding speed, she snatched it and wound it around Buquet's neck. Her strength visibly shook him. Without a thought, she tightened the rope, sending that man to his rightful place in hell. She pushed the corpse, down onto the stage, grinning at her handiwork.

She had done the girls of the Opera Populaire a service, by her accounts. The man was amorous for anything that had long hair and breasts. Kicking the fiend in the side, she returned to her lair below.


	6. Battle in the Dark

Sorry this took so long. Very tired. I need a caffeine snap. I promise that there will be fight in this chapter. REALLY. Here goes:

Ch. 6: confrontation

Chris had been very subdued at practice for the past week, and Meg was concerned. He was usually shy, but lively. Now he just stared at the floor, looking as if he wished he were elsewhere. She had attempted to lift him out of his funk with jokes and morsels of stolen sweet, but he just passed them up. Not only did he look worried, he looked as if he had lost sleep. Ever since Joseph Buquet's murder, he looked paler than ever. This surprised Meg. She knew that he was not close to the man, disagreeing with his endeavors to seduce his chorus girl friends.

After the bouts of sprained ankles and shrieks from Madame Giry, Meg stayed behind to speak with her mother. The elder Giry was dusting rosin off her dress while her pupils filed begrudgingly out the door. " Mama?" She said, avoiding her fellows as they vacated the studio. " Yes dear?" her mother's mood had cleared up tremendously. " I have a question, Mother," She fiddled with a tress of her blonde hair as she searched for the words, " about Chris. He has been like a brother to me for as long as I can remember, and I am worried about him. He has been acting strangely since Buquet was killed." Her mother stroked a nonexistent beard as she contemplated her statement. " Well, I know that he has spoken of an Angel of Music since he was young. People seem to believe that the murder was the work of the phantom. I think poor Chris has some reality to face." She tapped her cane against the wall as Meg thought about this. She let out a gasp. " Y-you mean that the phantom is Chris's tutor? And didn't know it until Buquet was murdered? How could that man trick anybody like that?"

Madame Giry chuckled. " The phantom is a she, my dear." Despite the weight of the situation, she let out an inward sigh of relief. For a while, she had been questioning the possibility of the tights and roses going to Chris's head.

She was preparing to leave with this new information in mind, when her mother caught her by the wrist. " You mustn't meddle, child, if you value you life." She warned, releasing Meg. The girl shivered at this warning, making haste for the door.

Riley nervously straightened her collar as she made her way to Chris's dressing room. It was the night of the performance of _Faust, _so the journey to the room was not an easy one. Cast members, orchestra members, and fans alike wound their way back and forth through the narrow hallway. Chorus girls warmed up at the bar, while the dancing boys nervously checked their costumes for tears. There were even horses in the mix, spooked to death by all the activity. When she finally made it to the door, she had discovered her wallet of money gone. Oh well, it had only housed a handkerchief anyway.

Knocking quietly, Riley entered to find Chris making some last minute adjustments on his dancing shoes. " Hello" she greeted warmly, embracing Chris reassuringly. " Don't fret, you will do well. I believe in you." She looked in the mirror, playfully fixing a stubborn lock of Chris's hair. His reflection was worrisome. His skin looked sallow and unhealthy, and his hand was shaking. Frowning, she took his chin in her hand, looking him in the eye. " Do well for me." And, in that moment of comfort, she kissed his lightly on his mouth. Her lips lingered on his, then leaving as Chris was called to the stage. She whispered in his ear, " I will see you tonight, at midnight." Riley squeezed his hand, leaving the awestruck Chris with his companions. He felt a lot stronger, the tingle of her kiss still living on his lips, like a fine wine. He triumphantly jammed on his helmet, strutting onstage at cue. Riley's parting remark had haunted him, but unfortunately, he was not the only one that it haunted. Erika had been at her listening post. _So, _she thought with malice glittering in her eyes_, I guess this will have to be done the old-fashioned way. _With a swish of her black cloak, she had bolted from her hiding place to the balcony, where she would watch the performance and stew up a plan to dispose of this Riley character.

Chris finished his solo with the final note of vibrato, his voice filling the theater. A wave of applause swept over the young star, swelling to roaring proportions. He bowed from the stage, the opera over. The chorus girls followed him, cheering and tossing sweets and other unmentionables at him. The stage crew applauded him graciously, the replacement for Buquet giving him a thumbs-up. His dressing room never seemed so comforting. Although he greatly enjoyed singing, he did not think himself fit for a celebrity status.

Hours after the performance, after everybody had vacated or gone to bed, Riley stalked down the corridor with a candle in hand, making her way to Chris's dressing room. She had changed from her Gala attire to a slinky green frock that was made of finest spun silk. An emerald choker dressed her throat, sparkling in the candlelight. Although she was excited t be seeing Chris, the dark halls spooked her a bit. After that Buquet character was found strangled to death, the deserted opera house seemed a bit foreboding.

She was about halfway there when a cold stroke of metal ran across the back of her neck. The woman whirled around, her heart rate through the roof. A slender figure clad in all black had a fine silver sword pressed to her jugular. The person wore a mask that screened half of her face. The girl in the mask smiled. Riley tried her best to keep her cool. This was not just some crazed chorus girl. This was the murderer of Joseph Buquet, the Phantom of the Opera.

" Good evening, mademoiselle Riley. Fine evening, isn't it?" The phantom seemed to be mocking her. Riley asked in her calmest voice, " What do you want?" The phantom chuckled. " Chris. But I'll settle for you neck." She drew a spare sword out of her cummerbund, tossing it to Riley. Her opponent eagerly grabbed the weapon, grinning as she fingered its edge. This specter had no idea what she had gotten herself into. Riley had been an expert swordsman for many years.

The phantom girl grinned, and then took a vicious swipe at Riley, narrowly missing her stomach. Riley bared her teeth, returning the shot. They crossed blades, Erika shoving Riley to the floor. With her opponent's blade raided over her head, Riley rolled over, leaping to her feet. The phantom yawned, clearly unimpressed, and then blew out Riley's candle. Both of the women were cast into total blackness. Erika, of course, had the advantage, having lived in the dark for years. Her eyes were like a cat's. They even glowed yellow in the dark. Riley kept backing up from those two yellow orbs, tripping over a rosin box. A searing pain suddenly cut her stomach. Even though she couldn't see anything, she felt warm blood gush fro the shallow wound. A merciless laughter rang out in the dark. Erika took her enemy's sword, stowing it back into her cummerbund. " You see," Erika poked fun at Riley as she writhed in pain, " Beating the phantom is like catching a cloud. It cannot be done!" She laughed evilly. Riley heard something like a vial being uncorked. A rag was suddenly forced under her nose. A dreamy state of confusion settled over her mind like a cloud. Somewhere, in a distant place, she heard the phantom jeer, " Pleasant dreams, old bean." The laugh of the ghostly girl echoed in her mind until unconsciousness overtook her.


	7. She's gone mad!

Ah. There's my caffeine snap! All ready to go. Even through I hate Raoul and Raoulish figures, I must do _this_. Enjoy my pretties cue evil laugh!

Ch. 7 She's gone mad!

Chris burst into Riley's recuperation room, the picture of a young man in turmoil His beloved lay on her bed, deathly pale from the loss of blood. Many chorus girls were crowded around her cot, offering sweets or condolences. Chris rudely shoved them to the side, rushing to Riley. She smiled weakly at his presence, trying to sit up. A large bandage was wrapped about her torso, her formerly adorning corset sliced off and thrown carelessly into the corner. Chris took her into his arms, stroking her golden hair. Meg followed close behind, carrying a large lantern. Since Riley had been found unconscious in the hall in a pool of her own blood, nobody could sleep. A red rose had lay on her breast, a mocking signature. The whole opera house was awake at two in the morning. The Phantom of the Opera had struck again.

His eyes running over her weedy form, Chris cried, " Who did this to you?" Riley looked utterly horrified at reliving the experience. Without a word, she handed him the rose that had been left at her proposed dying place. Chris snatched the flower, his eyes filled with fear. He crushed the petals in his shaking hands, weeping softly at the plight. He suddenly stood up, kissed Riley on the forehead, and bolted from the room. Meg was at his heels in an instant, her flimsy nightdress billowing behind her like a drag chute. "Chris!" exclaimed " Chris! What on earth was that about?" Chris took Meg by the shoulders abruptly, giving her a little shake. With a tired, frightened look in his eyes, he said:

_She lives inside of me_

_To watch, to guard_

Now she has gone quite mad 

_All exits are barred!_

Meg gently removed herself from his grasp, replying:

Who is this angle now 

_Who hunts to kill_

_Can you escape from her, _

_Her iron will?_

Together, they sang,

_And in this opera house, _

_Where her whim is rule_

_The phantom of the opera _

_Shall be here, our deadly jewel!_

He looked wholly defeated. Meg gave him a shoulder hug, and then returned to her mother. Chris was left by himself, contemplating his problem. His angel had nearly killed Riley. Surely, this was no angel. He stiffened up in a petrified rigor mortis. Why, he had been bamboozled by the phantom! He felt completely obtuse for not recognizing it earlier. She must have drugged him or something, chemicals doing her work. Not caring whether or not anybody saw, he broke down and wept on his knees.

Erika, on the other hand, seemed very pleased with herself at the moment. She lazily swirled a vial of poison in front of her face. The mixture was of her own creation, designed to kill within minutes. The girl regretted not guaranteeing herself Riley's death. Now, her rival was alive and Chris knew her for what she was. Nevertheless, she was satisfied with her professional work. Those fools Firmin and Andre dared not disobey her again. She literally had the whole opera house on a string, her plaything.

A shelf filled with toxins covered a whole wall, like a library housing confusion, delirium, nausea, and death. The bottles glittered in the candlelight, casting bright colors onto the walls. She felt dizzy, almost giddy. Now that she was a highly feared and dangerous individual, she had taken leave of her senses. An onlooker would have called the episode a raving fantasy. She called it empowerment.

Erika grabbed a bottle of love potion, cackled a few phrases in Swedish, then smashed the bottle against the wall. The crazed creature gibbered like an ape, watching the fumes of the concoction rise into the air. Miles away, Chris was believing the correct thing. His angel had lost her mind.

Sorry it's so short. I'll make up for it later. Goodnight!


	8. New Year's Eve

Ugh. What a day! But I always have time for you guys! Here is a nice, long chapter to compensate for my previously short, cruddy one.

Ch. 8: New Year's Eve

Andre and Firmin strutted through the grand hall in a most peacock-like manner. They were both garbed in garishly colorful costumes, each on the arm of a beautiful girl of which they did not know the name. It was currently New Year's Eve, and all of Paris was clamoring for them, the hosts of the party of the season. Although it was bitter cold outside, the interior of the building was warm and cheerful, heated by light spirits and many bottles of liquor. All were adorned in lovely costumes, buzzing about the crowds of their fellow crème de la crème. Tonight was for celebrating, and celebrated, and celebrate they shall.

The guests swirled about in a most peculiar manner, dancing to a strange waltz. They hid behind their masks, each savoring the capricious, childlike atmosphere. As the men led their dates through the throng, they greeted familiar faces and laughed loudly to half-baked jokes. Both of the men were very powerful figures in Paris, yet they didn't hesitate to kiss the wrinkled buttocks of any of those richer than they.

Among the waltzing multitude, Chris led an ornately decked Riley to the center of the dance floor. He was dressed as an angel, Riley also one. Together, they made a perfect pair of flirting smiles, white fabric, and sequins. Riley had fully recovered from her torso slash, all thoughts of the phantom far behind her. Chris, on the other hand, was edgy. Every sight of a mask seemed to frighten him, and he would visibly jump when a masked girl would ask Riley if she could cut in. Riley had to keep a watchful eye on Chris, for many girls who looked as if they belonged in a brothel came up to him, asking for dances, champagne, and other thinks which I cannot possibly repeat. Finally, she just snatched him from the dance and led him to the balcony.

Putting her hand on the small of his back, the girl grinned inwardly as Chris let out a silent gasp. Although he was nineteen years old, he acted more like a child than a man. Riley brushed a piece of confetti from behind his ear, looking into his forget-me-not blue eyes. Not caring whether or not her brother saw, she kissed him, fireworks coinciding with their meet. A number of the masked dancers stopped their motion, staring at the spectacle. It was not everyday that one of the most powerful women in Paris was caught making out with a lowly chorus boy. The gossipy old ladies would simply have an embolism.

Riley tore herself away from the embrace, slamming the door in the nosy onlooker's faces. She took both of Chris's hands in hers, her cheeks rosy with excitement. Slowly, she pulled a golden chain from her cleavage. Chris held a look of utter shock and surprise. His lover removed the jewelry, fastening it behind his neck tenderly. " Chris," she breathed, " Will you marry me?"

The boy sputtered rudely in spite of himself. He would have said yes to this unorthodox proposal in a heartbeat, but there was that horrible detail nagging at the back of his mind. " You know we can't do that, Riley." He said quietly, not looking at her. " You are high society, I am a common opera singer/ sexy dancer. It could never be true."

A/N: he did not say the sexy dancer part. I wrote that for kicks!

Riley's smile faded a bit, but she perked up in a microsecond. " We don't really have to be married!" she cried, her eyes sparkling like a little girls. " It- it could be a secret. A secret engagement!" Chris fingered the necklace thoughtfully. The idea sounded rather exciting to him. " Alright. I humbly accept your proposal, Vicomtess Riangiana de Chagney!" Riley cried aloud, taking Chris in a rib-crushing bear hug. The pair rushed back into the ballroom, eager to begin playing at their matrimony game.

As soon as he reentered the room, a girl wearing an ornate devil's costume tapped him on the shoulder. The figure shrugged a bit, gabbling a few phrases in Swedish. Her voice was unnaturally high and screechy. " Excuse me sir," the girl began, her voice carrying a hint of Russian accent, " but may I have the honor of this dance?" He could not see anything of her face, disregarding a small, cherry mouth. Her dark green eyes danced behind her mask. Chris looked for Riley, but saw that she was dancing with her tightwad brother, Philippe. He took the woman's gloved hand and kissed it. " It would be my pleasure, mademoiselle." He led the girl into the heart of the whirling crowd, sending the pair of them into a lively tango. Her eyes never left him, the jade of them gleaming in the light from the chandelier. Chris gulped quietly. Those eyes were very familiar.

The manager's passed the pair, the two of them arguing over their partners. " That evil woman left a libretto of her fetid opera on my desk!" Shouted Firmin, his date rolling her eyes. Andre shouted back up at him, " Oh yes? Well, that phantom woman must be subdued somehow. Her demands are getting out of control! A murderer in my opera house will not be obeyed!" Chris felt a tingle of fear run up his spine. The very mention of her name frightened him. The masked girl, much to his surprise, began to laugh a horrible, spine-tingling laugh. Chris shuddered involuntarily. It was her.

Before he could bolt away, a clock somewhere began to strike midnight. As the twelve bongs sounded, the crowd cheered, " Happy New Year!" the couples that were dancing removed their masks and kissed each other. Erika tore off his mask, and then tore off her own. She had tied a black silk handkerchief over the usual forbidden area.

The phantom girl held him by the back of his neck. Her jade green eyes were now filled with fire. Chris felt himself go limp in her arms. She caught him, running her eyes all over his body. " Happy New Year, Chris." She then kissed him on the lips, with a passion that Riley had never supplied. Chris could not resist her. He had taken leave of his senses, his wits stolen by his angel. Erika's lips parted with his, and before he could stand up straight, she was gone in a scorching flash of fire. All that was left was her black silk handkerchief.


	9. Perros at Dawn

I have neglected story after story! Shame on me!

Ch.9: Perros at Dawn

As Chris lay awake in his bed, listening to the rhythmic snoring of his bunkmates, the curiosity invoked in the phantom's kiss the previous night would not die. In fact, he almost yearned for the one who was his best friend for many years. No doubt, she had left him, never to return after hearing him talk love talk with Riley, so why couldn't he forget her? Without another thought, he tiptoed from the dormitory to the stables, ever silent. Riley was camped outside the door, slumbering fitfully. He was sure nobody had seen him go, but uncertain whether or not he was being followed by a shape in the shadows.

"To my father's grave, please," He murmured as a bag of coins was passed in the stable hand's direction. The stout man emptied the bag, finding a good twenty francs in there. " Right then." As Chris dressed in his mourning suit, a loud cry failed to startle him, but woke a sleeping Riley almost half a mile away.

The girl sat straight up, then jumped to her feet as she glanced into the dormitory to find Chris's bed vacant. With a look out the window, she caught sight of Chris clattering away in a black carriage driven by a mysteriously cloaked driver. " Chris!" She cried, sprinting down to the stables. A dazed stable hand rubbed a newfound lump on the back of his head as the girl ran into the vicinity, staring at the figure garbed in breeches and a men's shirt.

"Where did they go?" She said feverishly, a wild look in her eye. The stout man continued to nurse his head, his gaze testy. "To his father's grave, miss. Why do y-" He never got to finish, for the girl was already mounted on a white steed, taking off at a bat-out-of-hell pace for the countryside.

As the motley pair raced through the mud of the early winter, the driver said not a word, but he could tell it was a woman driving, the figure small and dainty. When they arrived, he hopped out of the carriage, roses in hand. "Thank you, miss," he bowed politely. " Two jade green eyes stared at him from the confines of the cloak. " It was my pleasure, monsieur." She muttered, then whipping the horses back into high gear.

As Chris stalked off into the mist of the graveyard, Erika cackled under her breath. It was like shooting a fish in a barrel. She quickly tethered the horses to a large tree, and then set off at a sprint to the site of the trap, laughing like a maniac all the way.

The graves of hundreds of people surrounded him, but there was only one that was special to him. His father had died when he was seven, leaving him alone in the world. Gustav Daae's untimely death had shattered his world, the angel of death taking both a father and a friend. When the mausoleum came into view, his vision swam with tears of anger. Every day he would ask himself " Why? Why did he abandon me?" receiving no answers and a consoling hug from Meg.

He lay the roses down on the steps to the crypt, kneeling alongside the flowers. After a while, he lost track of time, only brought back to reality by music, the most beautiful music he had ever heard. _The Resurrection of Lazarus_ floated through the morning, filling every corner of his soul, all from four strings on a violin. The angel of music had returned to him.

A voice, as if from the throat of a seraph, came to him then, singing:

Child of light 

_Of wind, of shadows_

_Desiring my consol _

Chris answered, uncertain:

_Divine protector, _

_Girl or phantom_

_Who begs for my will this time?_

The heavenly voice paused, although uncertain of its own identity, then sang:

Too long you've gone without guidance 

_Wandering out in the snow_

_Allow me to take you away_

_Let your spirit just go!_

The violin music began again, its serenade ghostly and haunting. Then, as the doors to the tomb opened, the voice sang:

I am your angel 

_Come to me, angel of music!_

_Come to me angel of music!_

As if by hypnosis, Chris dropped his scarf and began to slowly walk toward the tomb. The violin music mingled with the voice, creating an almost unearthly sound.

"Chris! Wait!" The euphoria was shattered when Riley galloped up on her horse, drawing a sword from her belt. " Chris," She said sternly, gripping both his forearms, " this is no angel. She is the phanto-" She was cut off when a dark figure emerged from the shadows, its sword sending sparks into the air.

Riley fell to the ground, fumbling with the sword, poised to defend. The masked girl leered, taking another stab at her, missing by only centimeters. Chris cried out as the two women fought viciously, lethal weapon for lethal weapon. Erika lunged in a fancy manner, succeeding in making a huge gash in Riley's right arm. Riley screamed, then, baring her teeth returned the blow, catching the phantom by surprise. Stumbling, Erika fell to the ground, the sword useless ten feet away. Riley held her sword high over her head, preparing to rid the world of this evil girl. She was shocked speechless when Chris stopped her.

" No Riley. Not like this." He muttered as he gazed at the girl garbed in men's attire that lay helpless in the snow. He then took Riley's hand and perched her on the horse that was waiting patiently by a headstone, cantering off into the mist.

Erika jumped to her feet, airily brushing snow from her boots. " Now, let it be war upon you both!" Her vow of vengeance was made, remaining with the deceased as she sprinted off. There was much planning to be done.


	10. Outfoxed

Ch.10: Outfoxed

Chris stared at the faded paintings on the wall in front of him, idly chipping paint from their dusty splendor. He was wearing a peasant costume for tonight's production of _Anna Karena, _and this was doing nothing for his nerves. It was an unforgettable fact that the phantom could easily overpower him, despite her small stature and could probably outsmart the entire police brigade with little effort. He had been recruited to star in the performance after both he and Riley and returned from Perros and she explained her plan to snare the feigned apparition. For the past few weeks, every body had been quiet around him, for they too knew what fate could possibly await him below the ground. It was best not to think about it.

As Chris sulked, mind ripe with worry, Meg entered the chapel and sat down next to him. Her face held an expression of deep concern for her friend as she searched for the right reassurances to say. " Don't fret. Chris," she soothed, stroking his shaking hand, " You'll be fine. She can't harm you, not in front of so many people." It was a rather weak guarantee, but the young man seemed to appreciate it all the same. " Thank you, Meg, but I'm sure something will be done." At this, Meg was at a loss for words, for she too had heard of what might lie ahead of him.

Erika danced excitedly in front of her mirror when she glanced at the clock. It was time. Quickly, she slapped on her mask and stowed a mysterious bottle in her red cloak. She never thought that she would have to resort to brute force with the man she loved, but here they all were expecting a tremendous struggle above all else. It was best to give the people what they wanted.

Above her lair, Erika could hear everybody preparing for the show. Now only minutes stood between her and the destiny that awaited them both. Cackling evilly, she dashed off to join the pandemonium.

" Move it, get on the stage!" the hands behind the curtain hissed at the actors who were lazing about, absently smoothing their costumes. The stragglers dashed onstage, brandishing their props and such. People in the audience looked surprised by the drastic chance of song and tempo, for they shook their head disapprovingly like parents reprimanding a naughty child. Chris was gently pushed along the flow of individuals backstage until he was at the edge of the curtain awaiting his cue for entrance. It came, and he nervously slipped on his black mask. Stepping into the nearly blinding limelight, he began his much anticipated solo:

She took away my thoughts of pain and woe And replaced them with sweet thoughts of love! 

A dozen or so ballerinas then leapt onstage and began picking out the steps to their ridiculously complicated dance. Only one of them seemed to get the entire thing flawlessly, and she was the head ballerina. Chris removed his cape, for he was supposed to dance a dance with the leader. He took her hand and led her to the rapid notes floating from the orchestra pit before he realized that she wasn't who she was supposed to be. Although she wore the same black tutu and strange cloth mask, but he could tell whom it truly was from the pair of jade green eyes gazing at him from behind the concealing scrap of mask. It was she; onstage, dancing to her own opera in front of thousands of people and half of Paris's police squadron. What's more, she looked like she was actually enjoying it.

When the time came, both rushed back to the side stage to retrieve their cloaks. The phantom came back with a red one, and Chris a black one. Chris looked into Riley's box and made a small motion toward the advancing girl. She immediately stood up in horror hands over her mouth. Although it was scandal happening right before the eyes of the crème de la crème, it was still a show and you couldn't stop the show for any reason. Chris gathered his scattered wits and sang:

Why do we fool ourselves into running away? 

_For the fire in our souls is here to stay!_

The phantom girl unfolded her arms and looked out towards the audience, eyes blazing.

With the scandal in the streets 

_And all eyes set directly on us_

_We cannot rest right here and now_

So flee we must! 

When she had finished her solo, Erika stole up behind Chris and kissed him in a complicated lock. Riley looked upon the scene with disgust, but Chris did not hasten to end the embrace. His feelings on the matter were nothing short of problematical. Before she could stop him, Chris pulled off her flimsy mask, revealing the monster beneath to everybody. She gave a pained howl and snatched the mask back. Forcing it over her ears, she turned and faced the audience and winked, the lights going to coinciding with the gesture. The audience panicked and began screaming shrilly. The illumination returned moments later, and Erika and Chris were gone, vanished into thin air! An ear-splitting shriek caught everybody's attention, and all turned to see the tortured figure of Riley collapse in misery.

Some people made a motion to comfort her, but abruptly froze and then sprinted away when the chandelier began to quiver dangerously. All hell broke loose when the monolithic lighting fixture plummeted to earth, killing at least five unlucky people. Andre stood up and cried, " Damn you, phantom!" and leapt off the balcony to help those trapped beneath the chandelier. If everybody heard correctly, a gruesome cackle sounded throughout the theater, mocking all who were lost and those who had everything to find.


	11. Down Below

Ch. 11: Down Below

For a moment, Riley could do nothing but watch the flames erupt from the ruined chandelier. Her mind was in a dejected state of shock. Others around her were screaming for loved ones and cursing the perpetrator of the gruesome crime. She herself couldn't muster the presence of mind to scream. Chris. Chris! Where was he? That bitch had stolen him right from under their noses! Something had to be done now.

Riley leapt from the box to the floor, landing in a pained crouch. She didn't dwell on the bruising of her heels, but sprinted right over to the chandelier. Mangled bodies were being pulled from under it. Blood, there was so much blood! Riley felt sick to her stomach, but helped partly lift the mammoth piece of metal and glass from the unfortunate victims. Before she could actually make an effort, her arm was nearly yanked out of its socket by an unknown force.

"Stupid girl! Have you lost your wit? Chris was just abducted, damn you!" Riley was sure she had never met this woman before, but knew who she was by reputation. Madame Giry was just as, if not more, notorious than Buquet or Carlotta.

"I-I was just trying to help-"

"Shut up! Just follow me, take this sword, and for god's sake keep your hand at the level of your eyes!"

Riley immediately shut up. This was nobody to be trifled with. Of course she was sick with worry over Chris's disappearance, but where to start looking? The opera house was too vast to even begin to imagine, and the phantom probably had her own world of tunnels and trapdoors where she could hide.

As they continued at the hurried pace along the pandemonium of the wooden hallway, Meg joined them, looking waxy and pale, handing Riley a set of britches and a lawn shirt, while her mother pushed her into a closet.

"Fool! Quickly, change! Those clothes will get you nowhere! You might as well just hand the phantom your head on silver platter! Hurry, now!" Riley stumbled out of the closet and was instantly yanked along the narrow hallway of panicking spectators. Madame Giry refused to speak to her while they were along this path. The older woman then reached a deserted corridor and ran her hand along the mildew-covered wall. She gingerly rubbed of the loose stones and then struck it hard. The wall slid open to reveal a dark tunnel.

"Keep up, keep up! We might be too late already. Dammit, girl, keep your arm raised! Do you want to be strung up like a waterfowl in a butcher's window?"

Riley was still at a loss for words. Meg gave her a wan look, and it hit her.

_Too late,_ she thought wildly, _what's going to happen?_

"Bugger!" Erika breathed when Chris slipped off her shoulder for what seemed like the eightieth time. The young man was currently unconscious, slung over her shoulders like a side of beef. She corrected the position and continued her decent into the cavern. _This potion will have to perfect. The victim is not supposed to turn into a dead weight after administration. _Although she didn't like to think that it was trueshe had drugged Chris the moment both of them evaporated from the stage.

When she reached the lake, Erika unceremoniously chucked flung him into the boat. To her alarm and delight, three loud voices were making their ways down her main stairwell.

"B-but what do I do with it? I've never used a sword before."

"Oh, do stop whining. If it gets rough, use it for self defense. Honestly, the nobility can be so daft when it comes to everyday matters."

"Mother! Don't be cruel. She is disoriented from the shock."

Erika narrowed her eyes deviously. Riley was coming, just as she hoped she would, but with Cecile and Meg in tow? This was going to be one hell of a party. And with that final thought, she paddled as fast as possible back to the lair. There was much work to be done before Chris woke up if he woke up, she mused, that chemical was of new invention and potentially fatal.

Halfway down the stairs, Meg and her mother stopped dead in their tracks, staring in a frightened manner at the darkness that lay beyond the warming hiss of the oil lantern.

"This is as far as I dare go." Madame Giry murmured, her face turning ashen. "Go quickly. There isn't much time." Riley gave her a terrified look and sprinted off down the stairs, trying to maintain a grip on the rapier.

Much to her dismay, there was a lake at the bottom of the stairs. Without thinking, she leapt in. What other option did she have? The water was as black as ink and as cold as ice, but it wasn't very deep, therefore easy to wade through. Within moments, she was numb from the cold but plunged onward until coming to a rusty bronze portcullis. Two very familiar eyes gazed at her. Chris was slumped over a fainting chair, to her horror.

"What have you done to him?" She screamed. Her voice cracked involuntarily.

"He'll live, hopefully. Now, come in, I have a game for you." The phantom flashed her evil smile as she held up two wine glasses and a small black vial marked with an ax on the label.

Riley fingered the sword edgily as she sat down. Something was amiss here. Erika swung around to a dusty desk and fooled around with the glasses. When she turned back around, the black vial was empty.

"If you pick the right glass, I'll give you the antidote to whatever the hell Chris went and drank. If you pick the wrong one, "she feigned a look of worry, "you'll die a slow, painful death. Now, drink. I'll have the one you don't pick."

Riley looked at the glasses carefully. They both appeared to be the same. She sniffed the contents. They both smelled the same. Then, when Chris gave a mucous-riddled cough, she quickly picked the one on the left. She could have sworn that it was the safe one. Erika picked up the one on the right.

"Cheers, doll."

Both of the women emptied their glasses. Erika looked completely serene, if not pleased with herself. Then, a horrible wave of nausea gripped Riley, and she fell to the ground, doubling up in pain. Erika began to laugh, then went over and poured a bucket of water on Chris. He instantly woke up, looking disoriented.

"I thought you put the potion in the right glass!" Riley croaked.

"Dear, you underestimated me. I put it in both drinks. The chemical was of my invention, therefore I am resistant to its effects.

"You didn't even drug Chris then, did you?"

"Yes, I did, but it wore off and he was merely asleep."

Chris looked around at the scene that was unfolding before his eyes. He blanched, as though just then catching on.

"You drugged her?" He looked incredulous, as though not believing she would do such a wicked thing.

"Sure did. Now do you want to save her?"

"Yes! Yes! I'll do anything! Just give me the antidote!"

"Excellent. Would you marry me?"

Both of the victims were now at a loss for words.

"You have a choice. You go free and she dies or you stay with me forever and she lives. Take your pick."


End file.
